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The Hunter

Slowly then, as if to give them exactly what they wanted, the white-haired late-comer in the long black coat and turned-around collar rose from the bench at the very back of the room. The scar on his forehead—it was in the shape of a cross—was bright in the light of the kerosene lamps.

He started to walk down the aisle and slowly, almost looking unintentional, the first people sitting in each row moved a bit away from him. A very quiet, nervous murmur began to spread.

“Morgan!” The priest growled in a deep voice. “What do you want?”

The man took the two steps up to the altar and turned around to face the priest. He didn’t throw a single glance at the crowd, just looked at the priest silently.

“Hand her over and we‘re all gonna live through the next five minutes,” he finally said. “Well, you know what I mean,” he added.

Just as he didn’t throw a glance at the crowd of believers, he didn’t throw a glance at the girl who was bound on the altar, blood slowly dripping from her wrist into a bowl.

Morgan didn’t answer; he simply pulled back a side of his coat, revealing a belt full of wooden stakes. “I could kill you all, easily,” he said in his quiet voice. “But these days I can hardly be bothered anymore.”

The priest looked at him, seemed to estimate his chances of taking the hunter out. But he was no elder, he hadn’t been turned for a decade yet. No-one in the small underground church had.

They continued to stare at each other, and then finally the priest signalled someone to free the girl. She was barely conscious and had to heavily lean on Morgan. Together they walked down the aisle towards the raw wooden doors.

Morgan put his hand over her head and kept walking when the door exploded into a whirl of splinters, and laser beams cut through the half-darkness. He didn’t waver when the troop of marines stormed in as if this didn’t concern him. Morgan, the vampire hunter, left the church as screams sounded through the room and the first crossbow bolts flew through the air.

“Well, so I lied,” he murmured and guided the girl up the steps.

Anmerkungen

18. Jun 2008 | Wörter: 397

Für diese Schreibübung hatten wir eine kurze Charakterbeschreibung als Vorgabe, die wir generell als Inspiration für unsere Geschichte benutzen sollten. Meine Vorgabe habe ich einfach gleich als Beginn in die Geschichte eingebaut. Es waren diese paar Sätze hier: "Slowly then, as if to give them exactly what they wanted, the white-haired late-comer in the long black coat and turned-around collar rose from the bench at the very back of the room. The scar on his forehead---it was in the shape of a cross---was bright in the light of the kerosene lamps."